


It's Not You, it's Me, Why I Keep Coming Around

by foundbyjohndoe



Series: Bert's Birthday Oneshots [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundbyjohndoe/pseuds/foundbyjohndoe
Summary: Hiding from your boss with Pete Wentz, starring Mikey Way.Title from Crybaby by Destroy Boys.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Series: Bert's Birthday Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027575
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	It's Not You, it's Me, Why I Keep Coming Around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_BERT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_BERT/gifts).



It’s six PM on Thursday, December 31st, and the parking lot of Stew Leonard’s is pitch black. Mikey doesn’t tend to think of himself as weak, but the biting wind and lack of light out there makes him want to beg Ray to stay an extra three hours to walk Mikey to Gerard’s car after lockup.

Mikey’s on ice cream counter duty for the last few hours of his shift, which basically means doing nothing because nobody’s bringing their kids to Stew Leonard’s Fresh Farm Foods after dark, and Mikey has yet to see a lone adult order a cone on a Thursday. There're supposed to be three registers open, but Mikey can only see two cashiers, so Pete is probably off behind the bakery, headphones in and essentially dead to the world. That leaves just Mikey, William, and Vicky up at checkout. 

Mikey wants Travis to finish up his stupid rounds and see that nobody shopping at Stew’s is buying soft serve in December, but a quick Snap-Map check shows that he’s not even in the supermarket anymore. The bitch probably strolled right out the back exit into the Mall, and since he’s the only manager who ever does rounds, Travis has a good half hour to fuck around with Gabe Saporta in the GameStop backroom. Fuck Mikey’s entire life. 

Gerard isn't gonna show up to save Mikey until at least eight fifty, so begging him to come into the supermarket with the communal Way Nintendo Switch is out of the question. To his right, he can hear Vicky and Will yapping Shake Shack orders into Vicky’s phone, presumably with Sisky at the other end, but to his left, Mikey hasn’t heard a customer enter in like … over ten minutes. The wind is howling against the automatic doors, and there aren’t any headlights to be seen. Even Jamia has seemingly abandoned her post as greeter. Mikey is enjoying this New Year’s Eve about as much as his coworkers, to say the least. 

He tries to think about tonight - about Frank coming over and getting drunk with him and Gee to welcome in the new year - but even that seems boring and kinda pathetic for two high school seniors and one’s college age brother. Maybe that’s an omen for Mikey’s 18th year alive; that its gonna fucking suck. That pretty much tracks with how his life has been going recently. Senior year is fucking awful; like this mix of doing nothing but also being the most stressed he’s ever been, and Mikey’s in that waiting period where even early admission Colleges haven’t sent him any replies yet. 

God is dead and CollegeBoard killed it.

Mikey slumps over the counter, folding his arms as a pillow. He doesn’t need to check his phone - he knows it's probably like … six thirty at best. All Mikey can do is hunker down and wait for this god-awful shift to be over. He’s getting paid extra, he reminds himself, for working the New Years Eve-ning shift. 

The doors slide open, and a blast of frigid air washes over Mikey. He picks his head up off the counter and turns to see Travis, looking significantly more disheveled than he did approximately twenty minutes ago. 

“What the fuck, Travie?” Vicky calls out to him, her head bobbing into view as she jumps to see over the checkout.

“Yeah fuck you, man!” Will’s voice says.

Travis just smiles and shakes his head, strolling over to Mikey’s counter. 

“Have you had a single customer since I left?” Travis asks, glancing at the empty checkout and greeter’s podium. 

“No.” Mikey says, running a hand over his arm’s gooseflesh. 

Travis sighs, clearly weighing his humanity and corporate status before he reaches out and flips the Open sign on the counter over.

“Go find Pete and Jamia, get them back here, and then you can leave.” He says.

Mikey blinks, processing.

“Travis,” he deadpans, walking around the counter, “Have I ever mentioned how carnally attracted I am to you?”

Travis cracks a smile, and then turns and starts over to the registers, where Vicky and Will have started physically fighting each other over what looks like a hot pink hair tie. Mikey walks the opposite direction, towards the bakery, getting his phone out to inform Gee there's been a change in plans.

* * *

Jamia was easy. Jamia was just chatting with Patrick behind the bakery. 

Pete was not.

Pete was not anywhere, it seemed.

After about twenty minutes of earnest searching, Mikey is genuinely considering braving the mortifying ordeal of the intercom just so he can go fucking home. He’s checked the staff hallways, the produce section, the prepared food, even behind the meat counter, but Pete is just fucking gone. The dude abandons his register on slow nights, but Mikey didn’t think he was the type to just go home mid-shift. 

Mikey’s about to make his way back to checkout when he walks past the cheese counter and hears a heavy exhale. No way, he thinks, no fucking way. But he leans himself over the counter and sure enough, there’s Pete, spread out on his back on the linoleum that is not washed thoroughly enough to warrant this behavior. 

“Pete,” Mikey says, leaning in, “Pete, get the fuck up and finish your shift.”

Pete doesn’t stirr - in fact, he’s completely still, his earbuds seemingly blocking out anything and everything Mikey says. 

He groans and lowers himself even further across and over the counter, just one tip-toe as a counterbalance. Mikey swats at Pete’s face, aiming for his headphones, but also like, anything that hitting would wake someone up. The guy’s hair flutters, but he just lays there, infuriatingly oblivious to the fact that he is keeping Mikey at Stew fucking Leonard’s at seven fucking PM on New Years fucking Eve.

Mikey loses balance, pitching forward as he windmills his arms in front of him. His hands land flat on the cool and sticky linoleum. Gross, he thinks, as the back of the counter presses into his hips. He’s certainly getting a nice back stretch out of this, if you’d call a painful contortion nice.

With some care not to fall sideways into Pete, Mikey lowers his chest to the floor, keeping his chin up and away from whatever was making the ground sticky. In this slightly less painful position, Mikey tries to weigh his options.

He could just swing his legs over and fall into Pete, a fitting fuck you for the night, but Mikey could also be the better man here and keep shuffling foreward on his arms and chest until he was flat on the floor. Then he could stand and kick Pete real fucking hard. 

Most of his options seemed to involve hurting Pete in some way. 

Speaking of Pete, he hasn’t budged. There’s some surf-punk sounding stuff leaking out of his earbuds, and his jaw is slack. 

Mikey huffs a breath, almost impressed at the guy’s dedication to his nap. Too bad, though. Mikey wants to go fucking home.

He swings his legs over the counter, landing hard on his lower ribs and, more importantly, Pete’s left leg. Mikey sucks in a breath of air as his thigh connects with Pete’s knee. He winces as Pete groans, curling towards Mikey a bit. 

“Wha?” Pete mumbles, his earbuds still blasting.

Mikey angles his head up to stop getting an eyeful of Wentz tits and shoves at his coworker.

“Travis wants you back at the register.” Mikey says.

Pete cracks an eye open and peers down at him questioningly.

“The register.” Mikey repeats. 

Pete breathes in heavily, and then, bafflingly, wraps his arms around Mikey and draws him into a warm hug. Mikey fucking siezes, totally caught off guard. He wriggles a bit but it's clear that Pete’s a lot stronger than Mikey, especially after an afternoon shift. He’s trapped.

“Pete,” Mikey whispers, “Pete, let me go right now.”

Pete just nuzzles into Mikey’s hair. Holy shit, is this guy a fucking puppy?

“Pete!” Mikey tries again, but Pete’s breathing has already evened out. He’s asleep again. 

Oh my god.

* * *

“Way, Wentz, you have got to be kidding me.”

Mikey blinks awake, his entire right side sticky and stiff. He’s on the ground and he’s very warm. Ah, right.

“Travis,” Mikey croaks, “help me.”

He hears a sigh and some scuffling as Travis walks around the countertop and comes to stand at Mikey and Pete’s feet. Mikey can’t see his face, but he’s probably trying hard not to laugh. Mikey’s face is on fire.

“Get the fuck up, Wentz.” Travis says, and gives Pete a solid kick to the leg. Pete yelps, and buries his face into Mikey’s uniform.

“No,” says Travis, “No no. Get up and get out. Both of you. Mikey, your bro has been here for like twenty minutes.”

Mikey slips his hands in between him and Pete, flattens his palms on Pete’s chest, and pushes - hard. Pete whines, but lets Mikey go. He stands, brushing himself off while muttering an apology to Travis.

“Just go home.”

Mikey walks through the store, past the prepared food, the wine section, Vicky and Will (who are giggling), all the way to his bag behind the ice cream counter, which he stuffs his uniform into once he’s shucked it off. He swings the bag onto his shoulder, feeling the last traces of Pete’s body heat abandon him the closer he got to the automatic doors.

Jamia smiles at Mikey as he walks through the exit and out into the night. Gee’s right outside, Frank in the passenger seat of the Chevy. They’re laughing at something one of them said, having not yet noticed Mikey. The wind whips his hair around his cheekbones, catching his breath faster than he can release it. He’s cold.

He’s cold.

Mikey turns heel and walks straight back into Stew’s. Jamia giggles knowingly as he speed walks to the checkout, where a very sluggish Pete is wiping down a register. Mikey hops over the conveyor belt before Pete even notices him, ducking to grab the guy's purple backpack before walking right back out of the supermarket, not even bothering to see if Pete’s following. Mikey squints his eyes as the wind hits him again, making his eyes water. He opens the car one handed, slipping into the backseat without closing the door.

“Give him a second.” Mikey says to Gerard's silent question.

Not five seconds later, Pete sprints out the doors full force, all but diving into the Chevy. He rights himself, closing the car’s door, and Gee rolls forward. 

“Hey.” Pete breaths.

“Happy New Year.” Mikey breaths back, leaning against Pete’s shoulder as they drive into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> hbd bert!!! this is 1/5. each work is gonna be posted two hours after the last.


End file.
